A Marriage By Any Other Name
by ChimericalParoxysm
Summary: When Ginny finally realizes her mistake, will it be too late to save her marriage?   Primarily GW/HP, some GW/BZ, and maybe some HG/RW.
1. All the Wrong Reasons

A/N: Written for DramioneLurver's Reasons to Get Married challenge. My "reason" was "Getting married is 'romantic'."

When Harry had knelt before her and proposed after the war, Ginny had been overcome with girlish delight, the entire scene set instantly in her mind… White lilies everywhere; the soft glow of candle-like lighting; fairies adorning the bushes outside – just like at Hogwarts! The women all tearing up in sentimentality; the men all sitting so stoically, really only _pretending_ to be bored out of their minds. Tinkling glasses of elven wine… And Harry twirling her around the dance floor in her lovely, rustling, white gown… Both of them looking absolutely _radiant_.

Oh how she'd squealed "yes" so excitedly, throwing herself into his surprised arms. And as he slipped the beautiful ring onto her finger – oh how it had dazzled – her mind began to drift to their future together. Candle lit dinners, long walks beneath the stars, waking up to each other each morning, Harry bringing her breakfast in bed… She just couldn't _wait_, and if a voice had whispered somewhere in the back of her mind, _But do you _love_ him?_ she certainly hadn't paid it any attention.

In fact she started planning the very next day, coercing a bewildered Hermione into helping her. And if Hermione had perhaps once asked whether she was sure she and Harry were ready to get married, she certainly hadn't paid it any mind. Of course they were; they were destined for each other.

Fate itself seemed to agree and everything had fallen just wonderfully into place. The flowers, the dress, the food, the decorations, the venue – everything was going to be _perfect_. She just knew it! If perhaps her mother had expressed concern about 'running headlong into such a big decision' well, _she_ could hardly talk, could she?

Then the day arrived, and everything was just as she'd imagined. The location was beautiful; their vows were beautiful; _she_ was beautiful… And if Harry twirled her around the room a little more awkwardly than she'd hoped, what did it matter? She just _knew_ everything would be wonderful.

Their honeymoon was everything she'd dreamed it would be, too. So absolutely _romantic._ She was sure she was in heaven… She felt like an absolute princess, swept off her feet by her prince charming, and soon to reign over their kingdom of bliss. There were flowers, and dinners, and breakfasts, and walks; the perfect beginning to the rest of her life.

_How very naïve_, she thought wryly, looking across the table at her companion.

"You're thinking again, love. You have to stop that." There was a light tease in Blaise's voice, but she knew he was serious… Maybe even right.

"Mmm," she replied, noncommittally.

"I've brought you something."

She smiled. Blaise's gifts were always lovely – gifts of passion, of romance. He unveiled a small jewellery box and set it carefully on the table, gesturing for her to open it. She did so eagerly, revealing a delicate necklace that perfectly matched her favourite outfit.

"Oh, Blaise!" she exclaimed. "It's absolutely _perfect_." A strange look passed over his face as she fastened it around her neck – a look that had emerged several months before, and had become more and more common over the past few weeks.

"You know what _would_ be perfect?" His tone matched his look and she realised he was finally about to explain.

"What's that?" She held tightly to the idealistic hope that perhaps he was about to say something sweet.

"You breaking it off with Potter. You _telling_ him. Us actually _being_ together, instead of just… pretending." Her eyes darted over his frustrated face.

"Oh, _Blaise_! That's ridiculous!" Ginny laughed nervously. "Besides, it's much more exciting this way, don't you think?"

His eyes narrowed. "Gin, I love you. I want to _be_ with you… If this is just a bit of fun to you…"

"Is it so much to ask for a little fun? For a little romance? Of course I love you… But this is an _affair_, Blaise, don't you see? It's all just so impossible!" She felt tears flooding her eyes. "I'm married to Harry, and I love him, too, but you're the one that gives me what I need. The amazing dinners, the romantic walks, the nights out dancing. You're the one that makes me feel special. Loved. But I can't just leave him… I can't admit I..."

Blaise looked at her for a long time, his face a blank mask. "You don't love me at all, Gin," he said finally. "I'm just filling in for Potter's 'deficiencies'. Well, look, maybe it's time to realise they're not his problems – they're yours."

Ginny looked at him in horror as he stood from the table, dropping some cash on the table. "Blaise," she whispered, then more loudly, "You- You _can't_…"

A glimmer of sadness shone from his masked eyes. "No, Gin, you're right - I can't. I can't do this anymore."


	2. Revelations

Ginny stumbled into the house she and Harry shared. It was late – she hoped he was sleeping. She didn't feel up to lying to him; didn't even feel up to facing him when she felt so heartbroken, so confused. She crept quietly through the hall and into the living room. She'd rather sleep there than have to feel his adoring arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her close as though she were his – his _everything_.

"That's quite the necklace," came a quiet voice from the couch. She jumped.

"Harry! You startled me," she admonished. Recovering quickly she glanced down at the subject of his inquiry, trying carefully to hide her near overwhelming desire to take it off and fling it across the room. "You like it? I only just bought it this evening. I-"

She froze as he held up the evening Prophet. There she was, tears streaming down her face, as Blaise walked out on her. She didn't need to read the article to realise that their argument had finally drawn attention to their relationship. On its final day, of course, because that was just the way of the world, wasn't it?

Harry didn't bother to hide the hurt he was feeling – her silence clearly confirming the information. "I'm- I'm going to stay with Ron for a few days," he choked out, "Then, well… We'll see…"

Her heart was shattering, she was sure. "Harry, please-"

"Just save it, Ginny." His voice was firm. And then he was gone, too.

She dropped into the spot that he'd previously occupied and sobbed her heart out, trying desperately to figure out when things had gone so wrong.

She searched her memory for a time when she'd felt like they were meant to be; for a time when she'd _known_ she was in love with him, _known_ they were perfect. She knew there'd been one. At Hogwarts, perhaps? She laughed harshly. A school girl obsession.

She thought back to stolen kisses in darkened halls. The thrill of finally kissing him; finally being with him; finally being _chosen_ by him. There was some small comfort in that; she'd always cared for him.

"But what_ happened_?" she asked the empty room bitterly.

The war. His 'death'. The renewal of their relationship. And then… The fateful proposal. Looking back now she couldn't believe he'd asked her. Not then. Maybe not ever. _Idiot_, she thought furiously, _Couldn't he see we weren't ready!_ "Why didn't anyone _tell_ us?" The rage bubbled up inside of her, but their words came slowly back to her.

"Gin, I know you care for him, but… after everything that's happened… What I mean to say is, don't you think this is a bit… fast?" Her mother. Hesitant. Concerned.

"Ginny, I was talking to Harry, and he seems so certain about this, but are _you_? I'm not sure the two of you are really ready for this – even without the way the war has changed us all. Don't you think you should-" She'd cut her off then. No time for Hermione's nosiness.

_You don't love him though – isn't that what marriage is supposed to be about?_ Her own mind. Quickly silenced. Carefully ignored.

"So stupid," she whispered. The dream - the beautiful Forever painted in her mind – had quickly crashed down around her. Instead of a fairy tale, life as Ginny Potter was much the same as life as Ginny Weasley had been. _This isn't what I wanted,_ she'd thought at the time, _This isn't what I signed up for._

But surely she'd _tried_ to fix things, right? She must have made a point of sparking that romance she'd wanted so badly. She strained her mind, had she really never said a thing about it? Had she really just let it go? Had she really put so little effort into this?

Her world was crashing. Always in her mind, it had been Harry's fault. Always in her mind, their marriage had fallen apart because he didn't fulfill his role – didn't do what he was _supposed_ to do.

He was never neglectful, no, not at all. He was just always _Harry_. She'd expected him to change – to become the suave Romeo she'd always pictured in connection with the idea of marriage. But somehow, it was really all his deficient fault. He never sent her flowers. He never bought her chocolates. He never took her to balls or to galas or to romantic dinners out. He never sent her sweet lines of prose or of poetry, intimating to her his undying love.

Instead he bought her tickets to watch Quidditch. He took her to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron with their mutual friends. He invited her to play Chaser with him and her brothers. He sent her reminders that he would be home a little late that night.

She found herself smiling sadly. Had she never noticed that these things were sweet – even a little romantic – in their own right? Of course not. She'd been bitter. She'd felt betrayed.

Blaise's words came rushing back to her. "Maybe it's time to realise they're not his problems – they're yours."

"How utterly foolish," she sobbed into the sofa cushion. "What an awful brat I've been."

She realised with sudden clarity that it was not that he hadn't deserved her, but that she quite hadn't deserved him.

As her tears flowed down her cheeks, she relived all the moments she should have cherished as they had been happening. She relished every memory she had of his telling her he loved her.


	3. Confessions

A/N: I think I hate this chapter, but voila!

Ginny finally fell asleep well into the morning. The night had been difficult. Turbulent. Sadly, today wasn't destined to be any better.

A sharp knocking woke her at 11 o'clock. _No. Freaking. Way,_ she thought tiredly.

"Ginny?" Hermione had evidently let herself into the front hall. Ginny prayed she hadn't heard yet.

"In here, 'Mione." Hermione walked into the living room so purposefully that Ginny was forced to reluctantly let go of her hope, raising herself into a sitting position. "You heard about Blaise, then?"

Hermione's look was piercing. "Harry's devastated."

She allowed that. So was she.

"How _could_ you, Ginny? How could you hurt him like that? We all knew you weren't happy, but to _cheat_ on him… I just… I can't understand that." There was a trace of helplessness in her voice, like she had absolutely no idea what to do. She'd allow that, too. Neither did she.

Ginny dropped her face into her hands, struggling to emerge from the fog of sleep deprivation. A year ago, before Blaise, this girl had been one of her best friends… She had to explain this properly. Hermione deserved that.

"I can't either, really," she began. "After Harry left… I just, I started _thinking_. It feels like... like I haven't _thought_ in ages, in months." She looked imploringly at her friend, begging her to listen, to try to understand something _she_ didn't even fully get.

Hermione sighed, torn between indignant fury on behalf of one friend, and the absolute need to hear out the other who had been distant for so long. She dropped gracelessly into the chair opposite Ginny, a silent signal for her to continue.

"When he proposed, 'Mione, it was like… like everything I'd ever dreamed of. I wanted it, you know? So badly I wanted my happily ever after. And I had this _picture,_ this _perfect picture_ in my head… of what it was all going to be like. The sweet gestures and the romance and the fairy tale ending. I had this list in my head of all the things he was meant to do… meant to be. But everyone was right – we _weren't_ ready, or at least _I_ wasn't ready. I didn't love him. I loved the idea of being married to him. And when that picture in my head turned out to be a fake I felt _so _cheated."

Hermione listened sadly, letting her long-silent friend speak.

"And I guess I twisted how I felt and I just blamed everything on him. But I never- I- Well, I've thought, and I've remembered and I was _so_ wrong, 'Mione. How could he even stand me? I was so… useless. I just blamed him in silence, and I let everything fall apart – I _made_ everything fall apart. And looking back now, you know, he was so sweet – so wonderful – and I never even noticed." She looked desperately into Hermione's eyes.

"What if I can't love, 'Mione," she whispered fearfully. "I know I have no right to be making this in any way about me. I know I have no right to be feeling so hurt inside, but-"

Hermione scoffed. "Why not?" Ginny looked at her so blankly that she had to hold back a, perhaps slightly hysterical, laugh. "You did something awful. You made a lot of mistakes. The hurting part is _important._ The hurting part is what sets you apart from the awful specimens of humanity."

Ginny burst promptly into tears. "You should _hate_ me," she sobbed. "You should hate me. Everyone should. God, 'Mione, what do I do?"

Hermione reluctantly rose from her seat to sit beside Ginny on the couch – as much comfort as she could provide for her just now. "You take your time. Mourn for the things you've lost, for the decisions you've made. You figure yourself out, and then you fix things as best you can, and you move on to whatever comes next. You learn from what you've done, and you _never_ do it again."

She sighed, feeling almost traitorous for what she was about to say. "People do awful things every day, Gin. Cheating… Cheating on Harry was _awful_, and it will take time for us to forgive you, but we love you, and so we will. It's not something I'll ever _understand_, but I can see that you have reasons – that things got out of hand, and I believe that it's not something you'd ever do again. In my eyes, that makes it forgivable."

Ginny's sobs grew louder, and she buried her face in the pillow once more. "I feel so dirty. I went along and it all seemed so justified… But it never was, and I feel so unclean. So hateful…"

"Good," Hermione winced internally at the harshness. She'd come to give her the benefit of the doubt. She'd come to find out the truth. She had. And the truth was ugly. And this girl needed to know it.

Ginny blinked, startled, and then she nodded. She squared her shoulders, wiping the tears away. "In all this mess," she said quietly as though only just realizing it, "I lost myself. I'm _not_ the girl that sits in silence when she thinks something's wrong. I'm _not_ the girl that cries into her pillow when she messes up. I'm _not_ the girl that backs down from a challenge, _or_ the girl that acts despicably."

Her gaze shifted intensely to Hermione. "Thank you. For coming. For being understanding, and for being honest. It's time I pull myself together." She nodded once more, decisively. "It's time to remember who I am."

She stood, ignoring Hermione's bewildered look. "And _that_ begins with a shower."


	4. Reflection

She arrived at Ron and Hermione's late in the afternoon after much mustering of long-forgotten courage.

Ron answered the door, and his face told her quite clearly that he didn't know what to make of her anymore. He was angry. He was hurt. He was lost. But she wasn't here for him, so she kept her head raised and walked bravely, at his reluctant direction, to the guest room.

Harry's eyes weren't red from crying as she'd worried they might be, but she could hear Hermione fervently _Reparo_ing in the living room, which was clearly indicative of some previous heavy emotion. He stared at Ginny in silence for a moment, and then gestured for her to come in.

And so they talked.

Ginny explained, and he listened. Harry explained, and she listened. They were _communicating_ for the first time since he'd proposed – for the first time in almost two years.

They talked. They explained. They listened. They decided…

"A break?" she asked, incredulous. "But Harry, I betrayed you... in so many ways. How can you even _think _about wanting me back?"

He sighed wearily. "You say you want to find yourself again, Gin. So you do that. You take some time, and you figure out who you are. And, you know, maybe I need to do the same for a bit. When we're both ready, we'll talk some more."

Her heart lifted just a smidgen. He wasn't just going to cast her out of his life. There was some chance for her to make things right with him, to make up in some small way for the things she'd done – even if they weren't together. "That- That sounds like a _really_ good idea to me."

The next day Ginny handed in her resignation to the Hollyhead Harpies, sent a carefully worded letter to her mother, and left for Italy. She'd always wanted to go to Italy and it was really just right there. The small Tuscan villa that she rented was quaint, but beautiful, and it lent itself perfectly to quiet contemplation. She purchased herself a journal at the nearest market, and began her soul-searching.

Three months Ginny spent in her peaceful isolation, refusing contact with anyone back home, and determinedly working through her issues. As she carefully examined who she'd been, who she was, and who she wanted to become, she started to slowly regain herself. She kept a list of her best characteristics, past and future…

Confident

Loyal

Brave

Honest

Passionate

Caring

Opinionated

… the list went on.

She also made a list of the things she was but didn't like – the things she wanted to change, to leave behind – both the parts of her that weren't truly "her" and the parts that were, but which she wasn't happy with. This list, she burned.

As she defined "Ginny" – became "Ginny" – she was able to step back from the things she'd done and was slowly beginning to forgive herself, to let herself move on and be whole again.

However, another, altogether unexpected, effect arose from her self-reflection. As she scanned her memories, relived each moment – good and bad; as she forgave herself, and became strong once more, she began to fall in love with her husband. The beautiful rings on her finger, which she had once cursed for the lies they seemed to whisper to her, began to hold new meaning. It posed an interesting question: could one really fall in love with a memory?

Some days she thought she was crazy for it – clinging to something that would lend her life meaning outside of her search, or perhaps still desperate for her happy ending. But as the last days of her third month in Tuscany passed with ease, and each day increased her longing for him, she began to accept that it was true. She was somehow absolutely, irrevocably in love with Harry Potter.

The desire to tarry at the villa, to avoid facing her feelings for him, and most of all to avoid facing his feelings for her, was almost overpowering. But she was now Ginny once more, and she knew it was time to go home, and to bravely confront the world.

So, no longer a twisted, wraith-like distortion, she returned to the Burrow with no small amount of trepidation.


	5. Restoration

Ginny wasn't just worried about Harry. Not in the least. Every person that she cared about was bound to be disgusted by her actions. Her entire family and all of her friends would be horrified by how far she'd fallen, and how badly she'd hurt someone they loved. Was she condemning herself to more ridicule than she could handle? She had a momentary vision of her mother wrapping her in her arms and telling her that everything would be alright. Could Molly Weasley possibly find it in her heart to forgive her only daughter?

_Nonsense,_ she berated herself. _My mother loves me. And even if she can't forgive me now, she will eventually. And even if everyone is still furious, I will face the consequences of my actions._ She straightened her shoulders and opened the front door of The Burrow - the strangely silent Burrow. She wandered through the rooms and finally into the back yard, but there was no one around.

A sense of foreboding crept into her mind, and she apparated quickly from family residence to family residence. No one. Had something awful happened while she was gone? Wouldn't they have owled her? Or maybe it had only just happened… She shook her head sharply – there was no point in worrying just now, so she apparated back to The Burrow, curled up on the terribly familiar couch, and drifted into a light sleep.

Sometime later she was abruptly awoken by a rather lot of loud noise. She instantly flew off the couch and into the kitchen where everyone was congregating. As she walked through the door a hush fell over the group, every member freezing.

Ginny shifted awkwardly for a moment, then, unable to take it any longer, blurted, "What's happened?"

Her mother, clearly overcome with joy, smiled the largest smile she'd seen on her face in a long while and crushed her into her warm embrace. "Fleur went into labour this morning!" she proclaimed tearfully.

"Oh! Oh! Wow!" Ginny replied excitedly, her previous worries eradicated in the face of the news. "Is it a boy? Or a girl? What's its name? It _has_ been born, right?"

Awkward chuckles rose around her, and the fact that she'd been gone three months in disgrace crashed back into her. Her mother didn't seem to notice. "It's a girl – Victoire! And oh, Ginny, she's _beautiful_."

Ginny couldn't help but smile at her mother's delighted gushing. And then she realised, "Oh my gosh! I'm an aunt! When do I get to see her? Are they coming here?"

Her mother pulled her close once more. "Any time now! I'm just about to start dinner." She turned to her sons, instantly business-like. "You know the routine, boys. Set things up outside – and no fooling around! Ginny, dear, you start on the potatoes. Hermione, we could use one of your apple pies, if you please. Everyone else, find something useful to do."

As everyone set about following the Weasley matriarch's directions, Ginny did so in a daze. This was… not what she'd been expecting. And then it hit her – she was now alone in the kitchen with her mother and Hermione. She smirked internally at her mother's manoeuvring, and decided to broach the subject herself.

"Mum, I- You know, I really don't know where to start." She laughed softly before turning solemn once more. "I guess with 'I'm sorry'. For everything, you know? For not listening to the two of you," she glanced at Hermione, "for losing myself, and for not talking to anyone, and for hurting Harry, and for taking off…"

Her mother took advantage of her pause, nodding in approval. "I'm not about to lecture you about things you already know, dear – that's a waste of my breath and your time. Leaving though, I think Hermione and I would both agree that it was the most mature thing you've done in a long while, and we're both proud of you for doing what you needed to." The sincerity in her voice struck Ginny powerfully.

Hermione spoke up, her eyes strangely bright, "When you walked through the door, Gin, we could all see that _you_ were back, and I'm sure that every one of us is happy for you."

Ginny blinked. "You guys… Aren't mad at me?"

Her mother and her best friend exchanged a look, and Hermione seemed to receive a cue. "We were more sad for you, Gin, than we ever were angry – not that we weren't both. We were just sad for Harry, too. You hurt him really badly…"

She felt tears prickling at her eyes. "How's he been?" she asked tentatively.

"He was bad the first week or so," Hermione began softly, "always at my and Ron's house, moping about. But he's doing really well now. I think he's really sorted things out."

Trepidation welled up in her heart. "He's not… What I mean to say is… Is he seeing anyone?"

Her mother laughed. "He still wears his ring. Haven't seen him without it." She glanced at Ginny's finger hopefully. "You _are_ going to try to work things out, aren't you?"

Ginny swallowed thickly, looking from her mother to Hermione. "I think I'm in love with him," she whispered hoarsely. "Is that possible? To fall in love with someone when you aren't even talking to them? Can that happen?"

Molly's smile brightened even more, and Hermione looked contemplative. Oh how she loved these two women, both so different, but so equally amazing. "Ginny, that's _wonderful_," her mother exclaimed. If she weren't already married to the man, she'd have expected wedding plans to begin pouring from her lips.

Hermione's brow was scrunched so characteristically, as she considered the situation carefully. After a moment she nodded thoughtfully. "I don't see why not, really. You've been together ages, and he's always been so good to you," she smiled, "I really hope you two can work things out – I'm sure he's willing to try." Her smile dropped for a moment. "You _are_ interested in trying, right?"

"Oh, 'Mione, I wish so badly I could just do things over. But yes, yes I most _definitely_ am interested in trying."

All three women shared a look filled with hope and with happiness, and Ginny was home again. It had been a long while.

A/N: I've received feedback that Molly is acting a little out of character in this situation, but looking at her reception of Percy, I don't think that's so. Between her hyper-emotional state over Victoire's birth, and her relief at having Ginny back, I think this is at least very close to how CanonMolly would act. Hope you agree!


	6. Falling Into Place

A/N: In response to some confusion: Ginny's list in a previous chapter was of characteristics she felt she _used_ to possess, but not longer does – it's a list of things that she wants to become once more. Hope that clears things up!

Last chapter before the epilogue! Enjoy :)

Little Victoire _was_ absolutely beautiful, and her party had gone off without a hitch. Ginny's _'Wow, I'm an aunt!'_ mantra was broken only when Harry arrived – a little late due to some Auror business he'd had to finish up at the Ministry. Someone had obviously warned him. _Ron, probably_, she thought. His eyes seemed to search instantly for her, leaving him preoccupied as he greeted their family. When his gaze finally caught hers they smiled awkwardly at each other. Ginny's stomach filled with raucous butterflies, and she blushed slightly in her nervous excitement. Oh how she'd missed him.

They didn't speak much beyond a tongue-tied greeting. She felt like she was eleven again, and only just meeting this boy she'd idolised. It was different now though. She didn't idolize him, she loved him. She didn't crave his attention – she craved his arms around her, and his gentle kisses to her temple; she wanted to talk with him and to play Quidditch with him, and to go to silly family gatherings with him. The feeling made her feel incredibly young, and yet somehow also more mature than she'd ever been before. _Is this growing up?_ she wondered idly. She wasn't sure, but it certainly felt like it.

Her relationship with Blaise had been heartbreakingly shallow - a petty search for a connection she should have tried to have first with her husband. He had been passion and romance and all the things she'd imagined she needed; the candlelit dinners, the long walks in remote locations, the secrecy adding to its potency – it all made her sick, now, to think about. Could she really have done such awful things? Could she really have felt them to be justified? She sighed. How could she and Harry have any hope after everything? She couldn't imagine how something so broken could be fixed.

She found herself wondering what Harry was thinking as he mingled with everyone – so at home with the family he'd made for himself. If only she could see his thoughts... Her mother had said he wanted to work things out, and he _was_ wearing his wedding ring, but what if he also hated her? What if he wasn't ready to work through things yet? What if he was only wearing his ring to avoid the masses of fan girls, and the relentless press?

She forced herself to push the worries away and enjoy the evening. Being surrounded by her family once again was an amazing feeling, and she happily sank into the long-forgotten sense of belonging and of peace. She couldn't quite understand how she'd let herself fall so far… But there would be time to think about that later. For now she was home, and there was so much to catch up on.

Teddy was there with Andromeda, and though he'd spent lots of time visiting over the past two years, Ginny couldn't remember having spent any time with him herself. Luna was there with her husband – they'd eloped a year ago, and though she knew she'd been told a hundred times, she only just found out that evening that his name was Rolf. George and Angelina were engaged, and she really wasn't sure she'd even been aware that they'd been dating. Percy and his wife Audrey were there – she'd never spoken with the woman before that evening, but they got along marvellously.

Late that night, as people began to leave for home, Hermione approached her with an enormous hug. "We've missed you crazily," she whispered to Ginny, pulling away.

Ron came up and put his arm around his wife. "We're really glad you're back," he said awkwardly, but solemnly.

She hugged them both close. "I've missed you all so much… I just mostly didn't know it," she added with a self-deprecating laugh. "It's really good to be home."

Hermione sighed, "About that, Gin, Harry's been staying with us…" she trailed off, unsure of where to go from there.

Ginny saved her the trouble. "That's probably a good idea. I'm sure we both need the space. Living together probably isn't the best idea any time soon."

Hermione's look was compassionate; Ron still looked awkward. Another round of hugs, and they were gone.

She heaved a weary sigh. "Would you like to stay here?" Arthur Weasley set his arm around his daughter's shoulders, and she leaned against him, considering.

"I would," she said contemplatively, "But you know, I'm not sure it's time to curl up in my childhood bed in search of comfort."

He squeezed her shoulder in approval. "In that case, there's someone inside that I think would like to speak with you."

_Harry_, her mind whispered nervously. She thanked her father and headed bravely for the living room.

"Hey," Harry said awkwardly as she entered the room. "You look… You seem…"

"Like me?" she prompted, taking a seat on an adjacent couch. At his nod, she continued. "I _feel_ like me again."

"That's good, Ginny. Really good."

"Yeah," she smiled briefly, "it really is." She searched her mind for the right words to explain. "When you proposed, Harry, even then I wasn't really me. We'd just been through a _war_ of all things and I'd lost one of my closest relatives. I'd really like to believe that I would have made a lot of very different choices in the right circumstances. Maybe not," she acknowledged, "but I'd really love the chance to prove to you that I'm ready to make them now."

"I feel more myself than I ever have," she laughed softly. "I'm not sure if that makes sense to anyone but me, but gosh, it's true. I know that what I've done to you… That it's not something I can make up for, and I can't even begin to properly apologise for it. I'm not silly enough to believe that we can just start over, pretend it never happened, and I can't even imagine how I might gain back your trust. But if nothing else, Harry, I want you to know that I am truly, deeply sorry."

Harry looked at her contemplatively. "I've thought about everything over the last few months – a lot, like a bloody broken record – and I forgive you, Ginny, I really do, but I'm not … I'm not 'okay' with it. I can accept that you were going through things - that you weren't yourself – but I can't _understand_ it. I can't imagine doing something like that to you. I can't understand why you never said anything, why you didn't try to work things out first. But I guess… I realise that I played a part in it, too. It's not all just your fault-"

"Harry-"

He shook his head. "Not you and Blaise, maybe, but for a relationship to fall apart like ours did…" He ran his hand through his messy hair. "I knew things weren't right and I never said anything. I never spoke with you about it. I never tried to fix anything." She could hear in his voice that he was frustrated with himself for this, and the idea blew her away, for all that she should have anticipated such a reaction from him, of all people. "I just stood there and watched as you slipped farther and farther away."

He fixed his eyes on hers. "Don't get me wrong, what you did, Ginny, that's not on me, and even after three months it can't just go away. There's trust to rebuild, among other things, but I don't feel like this is just my problem or just your problem – I feel like it's _our_ problem… And I'd really like to try to work through it with you."

His unguarded eyes bespoke an intense vulnerability, a vulnerability he hadn't displayed to her in ages, and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and kiss it softly away. The resurrection of this feeling – foreign to her since before the end of the war – made her giddy. Ginny pushed it aside only reluctantly, reaching out with restraint to lightly grasp his hand in hers.

She smiled brilliantly at him, "I'd really like that, Harry."

His vulnerability washed away, leaving behind his shy confidence – something she loved about him. She grinned at the thought.

"So, you, er… Want to go out for lunch this Friday?" He asked a little uncertainly, like he wasn't sure whether her many relatives, who had likely recommended the move, were right in doing so.

Her already lightened heart felt buoyant. "I'd absolutely love to."


	7. Epilogue

The first few months of their renewed relationship were taken very slowly – a decision both on Ginny's and on Harry's part – and when they finally kissed again-for-the-first-time it had been more amazing than any kiss Ginny could remember. Two months to the day after that "first" kiss, Harry moved back into their home, and not long after he "proposed" that they renew their vows – a sort of starting over.

Ginny happily accepted.

Their re-wedding was beautiful – for Ginny it was much more so than their first one – and when Harry led her across the dance floor, she didn't even notice the fumbling of his steps.

And all of this, of course, led to today. They had enjoyed nearly two years of remarriage, and Ginny was humming happily to herself and making pancakes. Harry entered the kitchen, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, and running his hand lovingly over her stomach. "He'd better get here soon," he said with a smile, "I'm starting to get a bit anxious to meet the little guy."

Ginny smiled brilliantly, if a bit mischievously, at him. "Good!" she said cheerfully, setting his pancakes in front of him and sitting down herself. "'Cause I had my first contraction a moment ago."

He stared at her blankly for a moment. "Your first… contraction…" And then it hit him. "But- Then we- I mean- We should… we should go to the hospital. We should do something. I'll just-"

"It's really alright, Harry," she said soothingly, even as she laughed, "Remember what the mediwitch said?"

"Labour can last hours, and we don't need to rush there right away," he recited dutifully.

"And..?" she prompted.

"And you should just relax as much as you can until it's time to go."

"And pancakes," she said with a grin, "Are first on that list."

When it was finally time to go to the hospital, Harry's panic returned. He strode frantically from room to room, determined they were forgetting something crucial.

After forcing him to relax, Ginny calmly sent her Patronus to Hermione, whom they'd pre-agreed would inform the rest of the Weasleys, and took Harry's hand in hers.

"This is it," she whispered excitedly. "_Our baby_."

Harry smiled warmly at her and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I can't even believe it."

It was finally over. She was sure Harry's hand had nearly been squeezed off, and she shot him an apologetic look as they waited for the mediwitches and wizards to finish their diagnostic tests.

"Love you, Gin."

"Love you, too," she returned tiredly.

And then their beautiful baby boy was in her arms. His initial crying was over, and his eyes were shut peacefully. Tears slid gently down her cheeks, as she cradled him to her, Harry slipping a finger into his hand.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, at a loss for words.

"I know."

"Hey, James," she said softly.

"We've been waiting for you a while mate," Harry added with a smile. "'Bout time you showed up."

Only a moment later a crowd of redheads (with a few exceptions) piled noisily into their room, and James opened his eyes, startled.

"Shh!" Molly hissed furiously. "You're all going to scare the poor thing!"

Ginny carefully passed James into Harry's arms. He looked like a natural, but she knew he'd been practicing. Goodness how she loved the man. "I'd like you all to meet James Sirius Potter," he announced to the room - a huge grin on his face – he was every bit the proud new father, and she was sure that she couldn't be happier than she was at this very moment.

Her mother let out a sob as everyone greeted the newest addition to the family.

Two and a half year old Victoire tugged gently at Harry's leg, and he crouched down for her to see. "Baby!" she exclaimed joyfully. There was an audible sniffle somewhere in the room.

Angelina was tearful, too, her hand cradling her growing stomach. George held her other hand in his as he looked down at the newborn. "You and Fred are gonna give Hogwarts hell for us, aren't you?" he cooed.

"George!" Molly reprimanded.

He just shrugged, a grin on his face. "Someone's gotta carry on the family legacy."

"Family legacy indeed," she muttered darkly under her breath.

Ginny smiled at the exchange. She herself had absolutely no objections. James was beautiful._Life_ was beautiful. _And if my little boy lives up to his incredible name_, she thought, easing contentedly back into her pillows, _Well, that's hardly the worst that could happen._

* * *

A/N: So, the story is finished, thank you to everyone who favourited, and to those who put enough thought into my story to provide criticism! (My family and friends won't do this and it drives me nuts!)

This author's note once held explanations regarding my story, but justifying something I've written feels like a twisted compromise. I'm glad some of you liked it, I'm sorry some of you didn't, but I think I'm pretty happy with it overall, and it did what I meant for it to do.


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